The Transition
by anilkex
Summary: This is the third story in the "You Are The Third Winchester" AU (and that is still a bad name for it). This story is pre-series, and tells how Dean learned to let go of his usual role of caretaker, and rely on someone else for a change. There is fluff and a sick, allergic Dean. Rated T for language.


I kind of had a knack for accepting things as they were.

I didn't love hunting the way Dean did, but I didn't hate it the way Sam did. It was just my life. I never complained about training, but I didn't exactly look forward to it, either. I did as I was told, without fuss...which wasn't easy, considering I had four very different men in my life constantly giving directives.

Christ, I sound boring.

Bobby says my problem is that I try too hard to make my boys happy all of the time. (He also says that he's the only one I should be concerned about. I think he's only half-joking on that.) I know it's an unreasonable expectation, but I believe in trying anyway.

It was the beginning of my senior year. I knew that the hassle of registering a kid for school and finding long term housing was taking its toll on Dad. It wasn't too big of a deal when it was all three of us in school, but now it's just me, and while he never specifically said anything, I knew the sentiment was there.

The prospect of seven more months of this shit was not making Dad happy.

Dad not happy because of me, brought out all sorts of insecurities and anxiety.

So tonight, instead of reading Shakespeare, I was doing research for other schooling options. So far, my best bet was to drop out and study for my G.E.D. near Bobby's. It met Dad's need for freedom and his desire for me to hunt full time, as well as satisfying Dean's need for me to "complete" high school.

Bobby always tries to get me to consider what options appeal to me simply because I like them. I'm John's daughter, I remind him, it's not supposed to be about me.

After wrapping up an online chat with Bobby about my school plans, the motel room door burst open, startling me. Dean stumbled in, shaking, coughing, and clawing at his arms through the fabric of his jacket. Dad was right behind him, lips pressed together tightly and blood trickling down the side of his face. Dean staggered to the far side of the bed and coughed endlessly into the crook of his arm.

"What the hell happened? I thought you were just watching them." I went to help Dean but he moved away, avoiding eye contact. His shoulders started trembling as he tried to refrain from coughing, which just looked like a bad idea.

I turned expectantly to Dad, since Dean obviously couldn't talk. He shook his head and sat in a chair. "We were. Until we weren't."

Ooooookay...thanks for clearing that up.

I brought Dean a glass of water, growing more alarmed by the second. He reached out and took it with shaky hands, spilling most of it. I moved to help, but he shrugged me off.

_Please let me help..._

_No._

Sighing, I left Dean's side and focused on Dad. The cut on his head didn't need stitches so I just cleaned and bandaged it. Dean still hadn't moved from the bed, the water in his glass barely touched. He was gripping the glass tight with both hands, and started rubbing his arms along his thighs in a desperate, frantic motion.

Once cleaned up, Dad stood and grabbed his duffel bag. He moved towards the door, and I stepped in front of him.

"_Dad…_"

He hesitated, then said, "Some girls at the bar down the street fucked with him somehow. He's …" Dad sighed. "Look...I need to go back. Kate - please...just...take care of your brother."

And he left.

Wait...what? Someone fucked with Dean? Who's taking care of whom? I stared at the door, confused, as if I didn't hear him correctly.

Once the sound of the engine died away, Dean let loose. The glass of water tumbled from his hands, and he hunched over, coughing as if he'd never stop. He dug into his eyes with the heel of his hand and pawed at his nose.

"_Fuck_...Dean…." I ran next to him and tried to rub circles on his back and calm him down. He inched away.

_Stop._

So...I stopped, and just watched helplessly.

Eventually, the spasm ended. By then, Dean was practically on his knees, panting heavily, sniffling and wiping his eyes, while one hand clutching the comforter on the bed.

I didn't move...unsure of how to help him when he was blatantly pushing me away. Needing to do something, I retrieved the now empty glass of water from the floor and placed it on the table.

Dean's breathing slowed and his grip on the blanket eased. But that's when I noticed the wheezing, and started to panic a little.

This had gone on long enough.

I bent next to him and put my hand on his back again. He flinched.

_Round two, Dean._

He wouldn't look at me. His shoulders stiffened and his hold on the blanket tightened.

_Fuck this._

"Knock it off, asshole. I'm only trying to help. You don't wanna tell me what happened? That's fine. But I'm not fucking leaving you gasping for air on the floor of this shithole room."

He froze and continued to stare at the carpet.

I sighed. "Dean. C'mon…you're scaring me. "

That did the trick. He didn't want my help, but he _really_ didn't want to upset me.

I helped him up and got him to sit on the edge of the bed. I crouched in front of him and took a good look at his face. I blinked a few times because I wasn't sure I was seeing correctly.

Dean's eyes were bloodshot - like, worse-than-the-worst-hangover bloodshot. The skin around them was puffy and red, telling me he'd been rubbing the shit out of them. I wasn't sure if he could even see - his eyes were barely slits. His nose was also red, and looked sore. He rubbed it and sniffed. His eyes were wet with tears from the coughing fit, and he started to shiver.

"What the _hell…_?" He just shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing his palm against them yet again. "Nonono...don't touch them..._shit_...hold on…" I ran to the bathroom and wet a washcloth with cold water. I gently placed it on Dean's face and he immediately hissed in pain, held his breath a moment, then exhaled slowly as the cool water soothed his eyes.

I was frantically trying to figure out what caused this, and why it was so upsetting to him and Dad. Dean wasn't sick before he left, so it wasn't some mutated illness. It looked like an allergy attack on steroids, minus the hives and sneezing.

I took Dean's jacket off and discovered..._oh fuck me_...hives...all over his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. I rubbed my forehead. Right...I remembered how he was scratching them as he came inside. At least he's not -

Dean rocketed forward with a massive sneeze, causing the washcloth to flop to the floor. He groaned and clutched his head.

Okay….this was bad.

"Sorry…" His voice was awful - it sounded like someone scraped his vocal cords with sandpaper. He swallowed and winced, grabbing his neck and massaging his throat, as if an action on the outside would improve the situation on the inside.

I tossed his jacket in the corner and helped him sit in a chair. He definitely couldn't lie down - he could barely breathe through his nose and I figured he'd manage air better sitting up. He gingerly pressed the washcloth on to his eyes with both hands and sighed.

I sat in front of him, debating my next move. If this was Sam, it would be a no brainer. I always knew what I could do for Sam. But Dean...well, it wasn't that I didn't know what to do, I just didn't always know what he'd tolerate.

Dean is the oldest.

He's the caretaker.

The end.

He's not the best patient, and being the youngest, he would not accept help from me.

Until now. I decided he no longer had that option. Dad told me to take care of him, and that's what I intend to do.

…I can totally see how his whole unhealthy spiral of "Take care of _" started.

I put my hand on his knee and squeezed, just to let him know I was there. He nodded in return, breathing through his mouth.

"You're having an allergy attack...I don't have a fucking clue why, but that's what this looks like to me. We have no Benadryl...so I need to go to the store down the street. We gotta get this under control before it gets worse."

Instead of answering, he engaged in another round of coughing, ending with a spectacular sneeze. I patted his leg. "Okay Sniffles, hang in there...I'll be right back."

As I stood, Dean reached out and grabbed my wrist, holding it for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he started a new round of sneezing that left him breathless.

I replayed Dad's words in my mind...some girls at the bar fucked with him….I decided to examine Dean a little more closely. I checked over his arms and face. When I got to his neck, I let out a breath slowly. There were tiny splotch marks polka-dotting the area beneath his left ear, as if something was sprayed there and it left a mark. I stiffened, fully realizing what happened.

"Dean...we need to get you out of these clothes and into a shower. Now."

Dean knew that tone - it's the same one Dad uses when he doesn't want an argument, he wants complete and immediate obedience. I knew he was completely out of it when he didn't make a single smart-assed comment about getting out of his clothes. He just licked his lips and nodded, letting the washcloth drop from his face and into his lap as he stood up.

I helped him off the bed and into the bathroom. Turning on the water to a decent temperature, I watched my brother attempt to remove his shirt over his head, which probably felt like a swollen, itchy, lead-filled balloon. I helped get the shirt off and tossed it into a plastic bag. Dean got down to his boxers, then turned to me, eyebrows raised.

The indignant look he was going for didn't work well on a face whose eyes were cushioned by puffy, pink clouds.

I chuckled and shoved his pants into the bag as well. "Okay...think you can manage from here?"

He nodded.

"...and shower?

Nod.

"...aaaaand get into clean clothes?"

Another nod.

"...aaaaaaaaaaand get into bed?"

Oooh...turns out the bitchface works when used with puffy cloud eyes.

"Ha. Okay. Do that. I'll be back in a bit."

I put clean clothes on the sink and shut the door behind me. I heard another explosive sneeze followed by a round of coughing.

Awesome.

I grabbed my gun, slipped it in the waistband of my jeans, and tucked my knife in my boot. After shrugging into my own coat, I grabbed Dean's jacket, quickly emptied it, and added it to the bag of clothes. I stopped at the laundry room and put the load in the washer (um...ok, so I stole soap from someone…Dean loves this jacket and I'm not throwing it away if I can save it) before heading down the street.

I didn't really have a plan. I just knew I needed cash in order to buy the supplies Dean needed.

I had no cash.

But I knew where to get some.

xxxxx

I had to tuck the gun under my arm in order to give Dean a quick call, confirming that he made it out of the shower and into bed without incident. He assured me through as series of grunts and coughing that he had. I told him I'd be home soon.

As I hung up, I shot a look of disdain at the whimpering three girls cowering in the alley before me. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, pocketed my phone and raised my gun.

"Now. Where were we? Oh, yes. Which of you ladies is carrying the money you ripped off of my brother tonight, and which of you is the fucking bitch that sprayed him with that shit?"

xxxxx

Dean was indeed in bed by the time I returned, slumped against the headboard and just looking like shit. He turned his head towards me when he heard me approach, and I realized that his eyes were more swollen than before I left, and his nose was now raw.

The TV was trying to sell him a dehydrator, while the remote lies forgotten on the table.

He tilted his head to the side. _What took so long? Everything okay?_

I scoffed as I unloaded everything I bought onto the table. He looks like a frightfest and he's asking if _I'm_ okay. "Had to switch the laundry to the drier." I think his expression was disbelief, but I wasn't sure. His facial features were a little skewed.

I bought liquid Benadryl - I wasn't sure how he would do with pills - and gave him a double dose. He downed it without complaint, and sat back waiting for relief to come. I ruffled his hair and gave him a lozenge.

"Suck on that - " he snorted "- while I make you some tea for your throat. Here's some super soft lotiony Kleenex…" I pushed the box into his hand and he clutched it to his chest like a life preserver.

I picked up the remote. "I'll find us something to watch...or...listen to at least."

He fumbled for a Kleenex. I grabbed a few and placed them in his hand. Bringing them to his face, he sneezed desperately into them.

After finding a station running a Jean Claude Van Damme marathon (Dean visibly perked up at the well-known accent), I made hot water with the coffee pot, and brought a cup of tea and a new, wet washcloth to him. He immediately placed the cloth on his eyes, sighing contentedly when the cool water met his irritated skin. I changed my clothes, shut off the lights, and crawled in next to him.

He stiffened as I shifted the bed, but I continued arranging the covers and fluffing pillows as if unaware of his reaction to my close proximity. Shoulders touching, I handed him the tea. "Try to sip this - it'll help."

He didn't move for a second, weighing his options and trying to decide if he could really convince me that he was fine.

I nudged him. _Just….don't._

His shoulders sagged as he removed the washcloth. He accepted the tea, sipping slowly and moaning as he swallowed.

"Um...need a moment alone?"

He snickered and nudged me back, taking another sip before returning the mug to me, and the cloth to his face.

I placed the mug on the nightstand and settled down just in time to watch Van Damme do the splits as he trained for the fight of his life. Dean muffled a cough into his arm and sagged a little further onto the pillow. I kept my focus on the TV, inconspicuously watching him out of the corner of my eye.

He was blinking slowly, head listing to the side. The Benadryl was kicking in, thank God, and I was sure the wheezing had lessened. As he reached up to rub his eyes, I grabbed his wrist and held his hand in mine, squeezing it gently.

Dean huffed and pressed his head against the pillows. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and shifted him so he could comfortably lean on me. This time, there was no resistance and his head rested on my shoulder and his legs curled against mine.

He sighed and shivered a little, so I pulled the blankets up over his shoulder. Van Damme forgotten, Dean pushed himself closer, as if willing me to keep him safe...to make him better.

I played with his hair, massaged his scalp, gently rubbed his arms and back...anything that I thought would work with the Benadryl and soothe him to sleep. A short time later, I was rewarded with congested snoring.

xxxxx

I heard Dad came home long after we both fell asleep. After removing his coat, he came to our bed and sat next to Dean. I blinked up at him. He reached over and squeezed my arm, then turned to Dean and inhaled sharply as he saw Dean's face in the dim light. I couldn't see him from my angle, but judging from Dad's reaction, he must still look pretty bad.

Dean sneezed in his sleep, a raw, painful sound, and nuzzled closer to me. I hugged him protectively, giving Dad a look (he didn't notice) signalling that I was warding Dean from everyone and everything - including him.

"You shoulda seen him before the Benadryl." My tone was a little clipped. Dad just nodded and ran his hand down his face.

Dad sighed and stood up. I didn't ask how the hunt went, and he didn't offer information. He shuffled to his bed and stopped as he saw the pile of cash on his pillow. He turned to me, a questioning look on his face. I stared back, my expression impassive.

He grunted, shoved the money in his duffel bag, and went into the bathroom.

xxxxx

When I woke the next morning, Dad was gone and there was a note on the table. I wasn't getting up to read it - at that moment, I didn't care.

Dean was lying on his back, head on his own pillow. I rolled on my side and examined him.

His eyes were pretty much back to normal. The skin around them was still irritated from all the rubbing, but not swollen or puffy anymore. His nose wasn't as red, and there was some color to his skin. The bonus was that his mouth was closed, and he was breathing through his nose.

Then he sneezed.

Well.

He _was_ breathing through his nose.

His eyes fluttered open and he automatically reached up to rub them. I let him this time, thinking if I saw him digging at them like last night, I'd grab his hands. The welts on his arms had disappeared, leaving behind ugly red streaks as a reminder of his scratching.

He blinked away the sleep, and yawned. I watched expressions float over his face like a silent movie. He navigated between confusion, embarrassment, fear, anxiety, resignation…

Then he noticed me watching him.

He jumped slightly, muttering, "Jesus…."

"No, just me." He rolled his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

He lay thinking for a moment, taking stock. His voice was rough and congested. He swallowed. "Um...better? But…" He twisted to the side and sneezed. "Gah...yeah…"

"Ok, kiddo, more Benadryl for you." I got up and retrieved the bottle of pink magic.

Dean struggled to sit up, protesting, "That shit'll knock me out…"

"Yeah - that's the plan. You were really bad last night...you need to rest some more...get that shit out of your system." I sat on the edge of the bed.

His expression was conflicted, and I could see him gradually becoming more agitated over the idea of continuing to be vulnerable. I hesitated only a second before reaching out and rubbing the muscles on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, and I gently pulled him towards me.

Our foreheads touched.

I waited.

Eventually, Dean sniffed, huffed, and grabbed the cup, holding it up for me to fill.

_Ha…_.Kate - 1, Dean - 0.

xxxxx

Dad returned while Dean was sleeping.

I got the laundry, and even though it was clean, I kept it apart from our other clothes in case that spray didn't wash out. I wasn't taking any chances - I did not want a repeat of last night.

I did a lot of thinking while Dad was gone and Dean was...passing out. I had a plan of action.

Dad nodded towards Dean. "He doing ok?"

I glanced at Dean and said, "Yeah...not a hundred percent, but he's slowly getting there. He's had two doses of Benadryl at double strength since last night."

He considered my words, and nodded again.

I casually faced the laptop towards Dad. "Take a look at this - found a hunt in North Dakota. Four people found shredded near some train tracks...literally. Bodies were sliced to ribbons."

That got Dad's attention. He sat down, picking up the computer and eyeing the screen. I saw his mouth twitch and his eyes brighten. The prospect of a new hunt, a new chance to help someone, an opportunity to see if the supernatural we would investigate could lead him to The Demon.

I made my move.

"I have some exams to get finished for school…" He took a deep breath and I could feel the irritation building. I smiled inwardly. "...so I was thinking...you can drop me off at Bobby's for a couple weeks so I can get all that shit worked out, and you should leave Dean with me so he can recover. Whatever he reacted to is really in him, and the last thing you need is his immune system flaring up in the middle of a hunt. I can take care of him better if we're in one place, and you'd be able to do whatever you need to do."

I spoke offhandedly, but my tone was firm...because I wasn't asking - I was telling.

"Anyway, come pick us up after the hunt. I checked with Caleb and he's free to help for a couple weeks. I should be able to wrap up my school stuff for the year by then."

Dad raised his head sharply and eyed me. "What do you mean 'for the year'?"

I leaned against a chair and looked back at him. "I mean...for the year. I qualify for an early graduation program. I can be done with high school within two weeks."

I let that nugget of joy settle in Dad's brain. He looked like he didn't trust my information, but at the same time, he kind of didn't care. I knew he needed to dedicate more time to hunting down The Demon - it's been eating at him for so long.

I felt a twinge of guilt at manipulating him like this - it was almost too easy.

I glanced at Dean, and my resolve heightened. I wasn't doing this for me. .

Dad closed the laptop and nodded, pulling at his chin. "Wow...you make a good case. Okay - we'll go with your plan. When can you have him ready to go?"

It still sounded strange to hear Dad leaving me in charge of Dean.

"I can get him up now - he'll just pass back out in the car."

"Sounds good." He stood, stretched, and bent down to kiss me on the forehead. "I'm proud of you. I'll get the car ready."

xxxxx

I slept most of the way to Bobby's in the backseat, with Dean stretched out, head in my lap. Dad and Caleb filled the front of the Impala, sharing their thoughts on the upcoming hunt. Their constant baritone conversation coupled with Dean's body heat lulled me to sleep.

Dean was steadily improving as the day wore on, so I dropped the Benadryl down to the regular dose. He didn't offer resistance anymore - he just did whatever I said without question. I think he liked being taken care of.

He avoided Dad - still embarrassed over the whole situation. Luckily, I wanted him to stay hidden until we got to Bobby's. By fussing and pumping him full of medicine, the "blame" for Dean's sleepy burrowing behavior was on me. I was in charge of him, and Dad knew better than to interfere.

I woke when the car hit a bump in the road and my head banged against the window. Dean was still in my lap, arms wrapped around a pillow, hiding his face. I shifted my hand on his head and gently rubbed his temples. He moved slightly at my touch, but otherwise remained still.

I closed my eyes as I became aware of Dad talking to Caleb about the events from yesterday. Completely awake now, I listened closely, wanting to hear Dad's version.

"...was a fucking mess. I was ...fuck...really scared. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't talk, nothing. I got him back to the motel and had Kate take over. That spirit was going after that family and I had to get back there."

"Shit, John…."

"I know. Anyway, after I burned the fucker's bones, I went back to the bar to pay a visit to those girls. The bartender told me they were known for doing nasty shit to guys so they could steal their money. Dean was just flirting with them - nothing serious." Caleb scoffed. "Exactly. So, you know, I casually ask where they are, and fuck..I almost shit my pants when he told me."

"What?!"

Dad started chuckling. "He said they were in the hospital. He said some girl showed up full of piss and vinegar, hauled those assholes outside and beat the crap out of them."

"Holy shit...Kate?"

"Yep. My little lioness back there figured out what happened and dealt with them. The bartender even waited to call 911 until he was sure she left. He'd been waiting to teach those bitches a lesson. Anyway, one of them was admitted overnight - busted kneecap and bruised ribs. Another had a broken hand. All of them had bruises everywhere."

Both men burst out laughing. Caleb asked, "Wait...what if they go to the police?"

Dad scoffed. "I checked around. Like I said, they were known for their shady actions. Bartender played dumb, and the girls were saying nothing. She musta really scared them."

"Jesus, John...remind me not to piss her off."

"It's the boys. She gets like that when they're involved. It's crazy, Caleb. All those years ago, I wasn't sure whether I should bring her into this nest of fucked up shit...but now?" Dad huffed. "I don't know what I'd do without her. Dean…" Dad sighed. "He's had too much sitting on his shoulders his whole fucking life. That's my fault. With Sam gone...I worry about who will take care of him if something happens to me, you know?"

"John...he's not a kid. He does ok."

"Nah...I know that. He's one of the best hunters I've ever seen."

"Hmmm….pattin' yourself on the back, are you?"

They laughed.

"Shaddup. You know what I mean. Sam...Sam was so smart about the research and piecing shit together...but Dean...he has the instinct...the drive. I needed to know he'll be ok if I'm gone. After yesterday...fuck...I'm not worried anymore. And now...she somehow managed to get out of high school early, and is sending us on this hunt so she can help Dean move past this. She's got it covered. She took care of this family yesterday...she's all grown up now. I just….yeah..."

They sat in silence for a moment, then Dad changed the subject to a werecat hunt in Northern Michigan and the familiar soundtrack filled the car.

_Huh. _

I sat there, thinking about everything Dad said, when Dean pulled an arm from around his pillow, and reached for my hand. He laced his fingers with mine, and squeezed.

_Love you._

I squeezed back.

_Love you more._

xxxxx


End file.
